


Trust Me

by VoltKnight



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Alternate Universe - Royalty, BAMF Stiles, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Precognition, Prince Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29925231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoltKnight/pseuds/VoltKnight
Summary: I've had this idea rolling around in my head for truly the longest time, and as the saying goes 'if no one else will write it, I guess I will'.The "Stiles has powers that no one knows how to deal with, least of all Stiles" - AU that has been written before, but not like this.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 7
Kudos: 22





	1. Just Trust Me

**Author's Note:**

> Word of warning, this was intended to be a one-shot until I literally wrote a single line of dialogue that made me question if this will be multiple chapters or the intended one-shot. I have decided to post here to gauge interest. Its fate is in your (and my motivation's) capable hands.

Stiles smiles up at the sky with his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the day. Derek turns from the clouds to look at him. 

He's shorter than Derek and covered in freckles. Derek knows they'll both probably be in trouble soon - he's supposed to be in a lesson with the tutor and Stiles isn't even supposed to be on the castle grounds - but it's a warm day and Derek couldn't resist when the other boy offered to sneak them both out to the gardens.

"I'm going to marry you." Stiles breaks the silence suddenly. He's still smiling at the sky.

Derek feels his eyes widen and a flush spread across his face.

"What?" 

Stiles finally turns his head to look at him and opens his big dark brown eyes. There's grass stuck in his wild brown hair.

"I'm going to marry you."

Derek frowns, eyebrows furrowed.  
"We can't get married. I'm a prince. And we're kids."

Stiles shoots him a toothy smile. He lost a tooth last week and Derek thinks he looks funny without it.  
"I saw it."

"You… Saw it?"

"Yup." Stiles goes back to looking at the clouds. "It'll happen. Trust me."

Derek trusts Stiles. He's never not trusted Stiles. But Derek also knows, as a prince, he's not allowed to just marry who he wants to.

Derek does not say this to Stiles. It feels like it would be mean and he doesn't want to hurt Stiles. 

Instead, Derek watches Stiles lit by the sun. A light breeze carrying the smell of cooking from the kitchens.

"Okay."

* * *

It is not the last time Stiles makes a declaration of a truth only he is certain of.

* * *

It is late. They should all be in bed. But Stiles wanders the grounds when he can't sleep and he's not allowed to bother his father when he's on patrols. 

Derek had been awoken by furious whispers in the room between his and Cora's bedchambers. He had gotten out of bed and followed the flickering candle to see his sister and his friend whisper-shouting at each other.

"You're not even supposed to be in here, peasant-boy!" 

Stiles and Cora are close in age, closer than Stiles and Derek, but they do not get along.

"But it's important and Derek will know what to do!"

"That's supposed to be Prince Derek to you, Peasant-boy."

"Stop calling me that!"

Derek sighs. They'll go at it forever if he doesn't do something, and it's way too early for this.

"What's the problem, Stiles?" He interrupts, coming into the range of the candle.

They both startle a bit, but Stiles recovers fastest. Derek can see now that something is wrong. Stiles looks disheveled on a good day, but his eyes are too wide and his lips look bitten raw.

"We have to go!" He grabs Derek's hand and starts pulling him to the door.

"You can't just take him wherever you want!" Cora grabs his other hand, halting their progress.

"We don't have time for this," Stiles insists. Derek is starting to realize he is getting increasingly distressed and this isn't just a 'we should sneak around the court until the birds sing' visit.

"What's going on, Stiles? Where's your dad?" Derek asks. If it has him this worried, why not tell the head of the castle's watch?

Stiles sighs. "He won't believe me and it'll be too late. We need to go to the servants' quarters."

Cora's frown deepens. Derek grabs Stiles' shoulders.

"What is happening Stiles?"

The younger boy's eyes go wild for a moment and start to fill with tears.  
"Something bad is going to happen to my friend, but I can't remember how to fix it, and it's important."

Friend? As far as Derek knows, he's Stiles' only friend.

"Trust me, Derek," the boy pleads. 

Derek will always trust Stiles. It's a simple truth.

Derek nods and looks to Cora.  
"Get Deaton."

The court chemist knows how to fix anything. If Stiles says something bad happened to someone, having the man there will be useful. 

Cora hesitates for a moment wherein Stiles starts pulling him toward the door by his hand again.

"The servants' quarters!" Stiles shouts just as they enter the hall and he breaks into a run. Derek follows close behind, hoping Cora will listen.

The corridors blur and Stiles seems to get more desperate the closer they get. Derek is a bit embarrassed to admit he's never been to this section of the grounds.

They approach a modest door and Stiles suddenly comes to a stop.  
"It's quiet."

Derek looks from Stiles to the door.  
"Should it not be?"

Stiles looks confused, but doesn't reply. Derek takes a deep breath. They can't just stand here.

Mustering his courage, Derek knocks on the door in a way he hopes is loud enough to wake whoever is behind it without waking up everyone else.

A few tense moments pass as Stiles begins to mutter to himself. Derek can just make out soft footfalls and hears the handle turn.

"Yes?" A woman with curly hair opens the door. Derek doesn't recognize her so she might be new, but he can't be sure. Not all the servants work where he would see them.

Her skin pales as her eyes focus on who's at her door. "P-Prince Derek! Your highness," she drops her eyes to the ground.

The title always makes Derek uncomfortable.

Stiles ignores the whole exchange.  
"Is Scott okay?" 

At the name, the woman looks between the two boys at her door.  
"Scott? He's asleep." The woman frowns at Stiles. "Who are you?"

She must be new. Everyone knows Stiles. Derek thinks he may have overheard gossip about a new maid with a child but no husband.

Before anyone can respond, Deaton bustles in with Cora on his heels.

"Where's the emergency?" He asks them all.

"What emergency?" The maybe-maid asks him. Derek looks at Stiles.

The boy looks lost.

"I...I don't-" before his unsteady sentence can reach any form of conclusion a thick cough echoes behind the woman followed by an odd wheezing sound.

"Scott!" The woman rushes away from the door. Stiles hesitates for a moment before following after her. With no other clear direction, the rest of the assembled group follows as well.

In a small bed sits a boy with a messy, curly mop of brown hair and the same skin color as the woman. The coughing and wheezing sound worse up close and the boy appears to be struggling to breathe. The woman has a hand rubbing his back but it doesn't seem to be doing anything.

Deaton moves closer, his face set in the determined look he gets when he's mixing a potion or tincture.

Stiles is watching the whole thing intently and Derek moves to his side. 

"How'd you know he was sick?" He asks the other.

Stiles’ eyes remain glued to the two adults moving around and the boy gasping on the bed. His shoulders lift in a small, slow shrug.

"I saw it."

* * *

Later, it will be revealed that had Deaton not gotten there in time, Scott could have died from his sickness.

He is given strict instructions to not do anything too taxing on his weak lungs and a regimen of weekly potions.

The maid - Melissa, Derek later learns - is thankful to the point of asking Deaton to mentor her in medicine in her free time.

Stiles takes to looking over Scott and the two quickly become friends.

No one mentions that it was Stiles who brought them all together in time to save Scott's life. Least of all Stiles, who pretends it's no big deal - sometimes to the point of forgetting it happened at all.

Derek does not forget.

* * *

Stiles' moments of intense clarity start to mix more and more with moments of profound confusion.

It starts with small things.

Stiles will go on errands for people who haven't asked him to, for things that are not in season or from merchants that don't exist.

He insists that 'he knows it should be here' about any number of things or people, then just forget the whole thing happened.

Stiles will begin chattering away to someone like he is continuing a conversation that only he has the context for. Or tell Derek about people who, he assumes live in the town, only to learn later that person either does not exist or has no idea who Stiles even is.

"Maybe he's just imaginative?" Laura tells him when Derek mentions Stiles' odd habits. 

"Maybe he's just weird," Cora scowls from the corner of the study.

It worries him and unsettles him, that Stiles loses track of things so easily, but maybe Cora's right.

Derek is willing to discount it as just Stiles quirks, right up until the memory lapses start.

Stiles will enter into a room only to forget his train of thought or why he was going there. It’s not too strange a thing, Derek’s seen it happen to plenty of people.

But it quickly turns worrying.

Stiles will sometimes get lost on the castle grounds that he and Derek had explored every corner of since the day they figured out how to sneak away from anyone who would stop them.

Stiles will get a look on his face like he has never seen a servant, or a maid, or one of his father's deputies before in his life. It's worse when he sometimes has no idea who Derek, or Cora, or Laura, or even Scott are.

It's not until one night, when Ser John finds his son wandering around town - scared and lost in the place he's lived his whole life, that it's decided something has to be done.

Scott is tasked with keeping an eye on Stiles and never letting him out of his sight. Stiles insists it's unnecessary until Scott looks at him with big watery eyes, and floppy hair, and an increasingly crooked jaw and asks if 'Stiles doesn't want to be around him because he's always sick' and the other boy immediately stops complaining.

Derek knows this is an act from the second he notices Scott prepping the puppy eyes. 

Scott may be sick often and he can't take on many chores, but he loves making trouble almost as much as Stiles and all the work staff find him adorable.

Derek tries not to feel jealous that Scott and Stiles will essentially be even more bonded at the hip than they already are, and remember that it's for Stiles' safety. Derek barely has time for messing around anyway with his increasing lessons and combat practice.

He is not the direct heir to the throne. That honor goes to his sister, but his parents are not going to allow their other children to be unprepared for leadership in other ways.

So Stiles and Scott become inseparable and Stiles has standing appointments with the chemist Deaton.

Derek does not understand what happens during these appointments, and honestly he isn't sure Stiles understands either. But Deaton does a lot of facial expressions and asks odd questions and either furiously writes or furiously reads while Stiles doodles in a book of bound parchment.

* * *

Stiles is very good at pretending that things are normal with him. But Derek will sometimes find him in an out of the way spot, brow furrowed, deep in thought.

Derek worries, but keeps it to himself - unsure of how to talk about it and not wanting to upset him.

* * *

It's on one of the few times that Stiles is alone - Scott laid up with a cold that refuses to go away - that Derek and he finally talk.

Derek is in the archives, trying to memorize the various noble houses, when he catches the sound of shuffling.

He shuts his giant tome to search for his unexpected company, only to find Stiles surrounded by books and looking frustrated. 

His hair is now cut short. The result of 'attempting to keep his timeline straight'. Derek does not completely understand what that means, but he notices sometimes when Stiles looks panicked and confused, he'll rub his hands over his head and seems to calm himself some.

"What are you doing?"

Stiles startles badly at Derek's question, looking up with wide eyes.

"Derek! Hey, uh, hey. Fancy seeing you here?"

"Stiles-"

"Oh don't make those eyebrows at me, Prince," Stiles glares at him.

Derek sighs. "Then tell me what you're doing in here."

Stiles' eyes flicker from Derek's face to the open book, clearly deciding what to tell and what to not. He seems to deflate before slumping back in his chair.

"You know my mom's dead?" He starts. Derek feels his eyebrows raise. He didn't know for sure, but he suspected that's why it was only ever Ser John and his son.

Before he can figure out a response, Stiles continues.

"I don't really remember her. She died when I was still little." Stiles' gaze focuses on the book in front of him. "Dad would tell me stories, though. About how she had a knack for always knowing if he got hurt or when the weather would turn. Stuff like that. I always just figured it was...I don't know. Mom intuition? But now…"

Derek frowns. "What does Deaton have to say about… This?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. "If Deaton says anything coherent, it isn't to me. I looked at his notes, though."

"You stole them."

"I borrowed them," he replies with a smirk. "Anyway, his handwriting is terrible. But I made out something about…" Stiles cuts himself off and sifts through some papers. He seems to find what he's looking for and shoves it at Derek, pointing frantically at a line of chicken scratch.

"Fae-blood."


	2. What's Happening?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles freaks out. Derek reads. Sisters are terrible.

Derek stares at the paper then shifts his gaze to Stiles and continues to stare.

"Why are you giving me that face?" Stiles asks, sobering a bit from the excitement of sharing the news.

"Stiles… you know fae aren't a thing, right?"

"Then why would Deaton write it? What if I've got fae-blood and that's why I'm… weird."

Derek watches Stiles deflate as he shuffles the papers around.

"Stiles, you're not weird." Derek tries to pacify. Stiles gives him a deadpan look and lets out a snort.

"We both know you don't believe that," Stiles sits back in his chair and takes a deep breath. "I've always been...off. And I was fine with that. I've got you, and Scott, and my Dad. I don't need any other friends. But this… If it's not the fae thing, then what's wrong with me? If all the things I've seen are just - I don't know - vivid daydreams, then why do I forget? Why do I wake up having no idea where or when I am?" 

Stiles' breathing quickens as he speaks until he makes eye contact with Derek, eyes wide and desperate.

"Why do I wake up sometimes and think we're little kids again? Or that you're the king? Or my mom will be waiting just around a corner? Or see my dad's dead body? Or Cora dying on a battlefield somewhere, or-"

Stiles' voice cuts off in a gasp as Derek grabs his shoulders. He sags in Derek's hold, tears falling from his eyes.

"Derek, what's happening to me?"

* * *

Derek had been worried about Stiles in general, but after his freakout, Derek is determined to find a way to help.

It's obvious that Stiles doesn't want everyone to know how bothered he is by all of it. Aside from things he can't hide, Stiles insists he's fine. He takes to helping Scott with his chores or fetching things for Melissa's continuing studies during the day, and Derek finds him tearing through anything he can find on fae in the library.

Derek, himself, takes to leaving out whatever books he has access to that seem related to Stiles' research, and reads medical texts between lessons and obligations. Stiles may be convinced his answers lie in fairy stories, but Derek would rather focus his efforts on learning about the brain.

He's sure there has to be a logical explanation.

Cora spots him puzzling over a diagram one day at the dining table.

"I'm sure there are more appealing drawings of nudes available," she says, taking a seat across from him.

Derek frowns up at her. "What?" He looks back down at the page and realizes how the diagram must look, before feeling himself flush darkly. "I-it's not- It's for Stiles."

Cora smirks. "I'm sure he'll appreciate your intimate knowledge of the body."

It takes a moment for Derek to catch the innuendo, but when he does he slams the book closed. "It's not like that!"

Cora cackles at his obvious discomfort.

"Stop it, Cora," Laura comes into the room drinking tea and reading something, clearly distracted.

"I haven't even done anything," Cora crosses her arms. "And don't boss me around just because you're first in line. Derek's the one reading scandalous books."

"I am not," Derek grumbles. Laura twitches. She puts down her book and the tea and looks at her siblings.

"What you do in your chambers is not my problem, but -Der- we eat at that table."

Derek puts his head down on the table with a groan. 

Sisters are terrible.

* * *

Stiles blinks his eyes open. The sky is bright. The air is warm.

"Stiles?"

Someone is grabbing his shoulders. Who is this boy, with his floppy hair and incredibly crooked jaw? He looks distinctly like a puppy.

"Stiles? Are you okay?"

Actually. Stiles looks around. Actually, weren't there renovations to the training grounds? It definitely had been expanded once Cora started training the troops. 

Why was anyone surprised she's way more vicious than Derek?

Someone comes close to where he's sitting. Why is he on the ground?

The crooked-jaw boy looks stressed as another person crouches to look at Stiles. Stiles frowns up at the new-

Oh.

Stiles feels himself smile and reaches up to touch Derek's face. He looks a bit odd. Less… Stressed?

"Hello, darling, kingship looks fitting on you."

Derek flushes under his hand and casts a look at their audience.

"Stiles, are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Though, I admit, much better now that I'm seeing you, wolfman."

Scott snorts. Of course that's Scott. Who else has that jawline? Unless there are little Scottlings running about that he's somehow kept from Stiles all these years.

Stiles registers Derek grumbling at the nickname and smiles wider.

"Just because the shifters don't think you're wolf enough doesn't mean I'm ever letting you forget your bloodline."

Derek and Scott frown, which is frankly a rude reaction considering they both know exactly what he's talking about.

Stiles frowns back.

"Oh come on, you can't still be bitter about that," he pats at Derek's cheek and brushes at his sideburns. Did he cut them recently? Wasn't he on a kick about growing them out. "You're plenty furry for me"

"Stiles, come on." Derek starts to pull him to his feet.

"Wait wait," Scott interrupts, halting Derek's movement. He stares intently at Stiles. Stiles blinks back.

"What's up, bro?"

"Just- Stiles, when did you last cut your hair?"

Cut his hair? He hasn't cut his hair in ages. What kind of question is-

Stiles reaches up to touch his hair and hesitates when he doesn't feel it. 

What?

He rubs his hand over his head.

Stubble? Why is it… He hasn't cut his hair this short since…

"It's spring. I just had a cold. Your dad is head of the watch. My mom is studying under Deaton."

Studying under Deaton?

Stiles shakes his head slowly. "That's- That's not." He feels himself blink.

Mrs. McCall has been treating townspeople for… for… wait

"Stiles?"

Stiles looks between his two favorite people. What was he just talking about?

He looks around. They're at the training grounds. Derek's practice sword is on the ground.

"What's going on you guys?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for the comments and kudos everyone. This one's a bit shorter, but I wanted to post it before I worked myself up about it.
> 
> Couple thing I feel I should point out. I am 100% projecting my past health problems onto Scott. I'm not sorry.  
> I do not write sad stories, so this will have a happy ending even if I have to pry it kicking and screaming out of my brain.  
> Also, people around me have been playing a truly insane amount of British period pieces and it has summarily infiltrated my writing. I always kind of intended for them to have a mix of modern and quasi-historical speech patterns, but I'm sure it's a hot mess. I'm intending to go back through and edit when I can focus better.
> 
> Apologies, bros.

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments? LMK.


End file.
